


Keeping an Eye on the Eye

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Season 1, Sharing a Bed, Spying, Undercover, Web!Martin, making tea to say 'i love you'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: Martin is sent by the Web to keep watch over the Head Archivist. He certainly wasn't expecting to fall in love along the way.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 22
Kudos: 286





	Keeping an Eye on the Eye

For as long as Martin could remember, he’d liked spiders. He’d always thought of them as cute, and he knew that they did a useful job of getting rid of mosquitos and other pesky bugs. He had never understood why others had always been so afraid of them. Some of the few times his mother had bothered to acknowledge his existence was when she spotted a spider in their flat and needed Martin to take care of it. And by ‘take care of it’, Martin almost always meant taking them out alive instead of just squishing them. 

When Martin figured out that so many supernatural things were not only real, but that there were a bunch dedicated solely to spiders, Martin knew that he’d finally found a place where he could fit in. He embraced the Web, and found that he was rather good at secrets and manipulation, if only because everyone always underestimated him. 

Nothing too difficult was expected of Martin, and he’d made it clear from the start that he would not kill anyone, and in exchange he had a few unique abilities that the average human did not have. And he was part of a tight-knit community of others who all worked for the same cause. It was very rare for Martin to feel lonely as an adult the way he always had as a child, and he was very grateful to the Web for giving that to him. 

So when he was asked to do a bit of undercover work, Martin agreed immediately, and prepared himself for the task. He wasn’t given much information, though that wasn’t unusual when it came to the Web. The secrets seemed to extend even to those who were agents of the same entity. 

All he knew was that he was to keep an eye on the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute in London. He wasn’t even given a name to go off of. But Martin had done more with less in the past, so he created a resume that seemed most likely to land him a job in an institute that documented the supernatural, and he applied for a job as a researcher. He figured that working directly beneath the Head Archivist- a woman apparently named Gertrude Robinson- would be too obvious. 

Martin wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to be looking for, so he did his best to just keep track of everything he could about the old woman. He’d only been working at the Institute for a few months, though, when Gertrude disappeared. A memorial was held for all the staff, and they were told that she was presumed dead.

Martin assumed that that meant his job at the Institute was done, despite how little he had accomplished there, but he was simply given the same instructions as before: that he was to keep an eye on the Head Archivist. So he waited patiently, and sure enough, two weeks later there was a new Head Archivist. A man named Jonathan Sims. 

They’d both been working in the same department, but Martin had barely ever paid attention to the man. He’d tried to be just as amiable as he was with everyone else, but Jon seemed to go out of his way to rebuff any kindness that was directed towards him. He was grouchy and snappy and sarcastic, and Martin wasn’t sure when the man slept, because he was always the last to leave at night and the first to arrive in the morning. But the thing that stood out the most to Martin was just how skeptical Jon seemed to be about the idea of anything supernatural existing in the world. 

For a man like that to be promoted to Head Archivist was something that Martin definitely didn’t understand. But Martin was determined to do his job, so he made the right noises, and managed to get himself moved down to the basement. He got the strong feeling that Jon would not catch him the way that Gertrude could have. 

Once he started paying more attention, it was easy for Martin to see that Jon was marked by the Web, even if Jon didn’t seem to be aware of that fact. That made it even more bizarre that Jon so adamantly didn’t believe in anything that didn’t fit within the neat little boxes he seemed to see the world in. 

It was shockingly easy to spy on Jon. For one thing, the man seemed incapable of ever going home for the night, though Martin was never willing to stay all night to see if he could actually wait Jon out. It also helped that when Jon got into his work, he seemed to entirely forget about anything else that was around him. 

Mostly, Martin was left feeling confused about what he was supposed to be taking note of. Jon just was not a very interesting person, and all he seemed to care about was organizing the archives, which had been left in a mess by Gertrude. So it came as something of a surprise when Martin went to bring tea to Jon, just like he had everyday for the past two weeks, and Jon threw something to the ground and let out a loud shout of frustration that didn’t even sound like it was made of real words. 

He looked surprised to see Martin standing there, even though it was the same time that Martin always came by. “Martin? What-?” He let out a loud sigh, and ducked his head down to stare intently at his desk. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ve just been having some… difficulties today.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jon’s head jerked up, and he looked more surprised by the question than he had by Martin’s presence in his office. “It’s the- the statements. Well, just this one in particular. I’ve already tried recording it three times, but when I try to play back the recordings to make sure they’re all set, they all played back with such heavy distortion that you can’t make out anything else. I tried recording other things, and they’ve been just fine. I can’t explain it, but this statement just… refuses to record.” He slumped back in his seat, and it was clear that he was exhausted. “I think I’m going crazy.”

Martin thought of the way his computer and phone had started acting so glitchy around him after he joined the Web, and he knew that whatever was going on, it wasn’t the result of Jon being insane. Though it was a bit surprising that it had taken this long for Jon to encounter a statement that was real. “You’re not going crazy. Doesn’t this just prove that there’s something suspicious about the statement?”

Jon scoffed, and Martin once again marveled at how such a skeptic had ever managed to get promoted to the position of Head Archivist. “Don’t be so ridiculous, Martin. This piece of paper isn’t haunted, or whatever it is that you’re trying to imply.” He leaned back in his seat, eyes already moving down to look at the statement again instead of Martin. “Thank you for the tea, but now if you’ll excuse me, I really must get back to this.”

Martin wasn’t even sure why Jon was so intent on making audio recordings of every statement, but Jon was the boss and Martin had no reason to try and fight him on it, so he just nodded and slipped out of the office. 

When Martin got up to head home at nine at night, he could see the light still on in Jon’s office, and he silently wished the man good luck in trying to figure out a way to wrangle the supernatural. For some reason, Martin wasn’t even surprised when he returned to work the next morning, and Jon triumphantly swaggered into the bullpen, waving around an old looking tape recorder. “Any statement that can’t be recorded normally will be done on tape,” he announced with just a touch of manic glee in his voice. There were darker circles under his eyes than usual, but he seemed so pleased with himself that Martin didn’t see the point in trying to lecture him at the moment.

After that, it became the norm for any stubborn statements to be sent Jon’s way, since he refused to hand over the old tape recorder, claiming that it was the only one and there was too much risk of it being broken by clumsy hands. Martin got the feeling that that was directed mostly towards him, but he didn’t get offended by it, since he’d been intentionally playing up all the traits that Jon seemed to hate. 

Things went on as usual for a few months after that, until Jon dropped a file folder down on Martin’s desk. Martin held back a weary sigh as he flipped it open, and after a quick scan of the written statement, he furrowed his eyebrows and looked back up at Jon. “A ghost spider?” He knew immediately that it was real, and obviously the Web was responsible for it.

There was just the slightest hesitation from Jon before he adopted his usual bored look. “I’m sure it’s all hogwash, but all the same I need you to look into it before I do my recording. Sasha and Tim are both busy with more important things.”

Then Jon marched away, and Martin did let out that sigh. It sure would be nice if the Web had sent him to look after someone a bit kinder. But he couldn’t afford to lose his job, at least not yet, so he went to the location. He got into Carlos Vittory’s apartment, and didn’t even flinch at the sight of the webbed up body. He took a few pictures, glanced around the flat for anything else of interest, and then returned to the Institute. Surely even Jon would be convinced now. 

It was actually quite amazing that Jon just shook his head and scoffed at the photographs. “It’s just a coincidence, Martin.” He spoke in the same way he always did, a way that was meant to say that he knew more than whoever he was talking to. It was quite irritating, since Martin actually knew more in this case, and he also didn’t understand how anyone could continue to deny the existence of the supernatural at this point, let alone someone who looked into supernatural occurrences for a living. 

Martin listened to Jon’s tape when it was finished, and decided that there was more to be found. He wasn’t sure why he was so intent on proving to Jon that it was all real, but he just felt like it was something he had to do. Whether for himself or for the Web, it didn’t really matter.

But Martin was foolish enough to let his guard down, believing himself to be safe in a place that had been claimed by the Web. He hadn’t expected for Jane Prentiss of all people to be down in that basement, and he cursed under his breath when his phone dropped, and he ran. 

His flat was the nearest safe place he could think of, so Martin went there and barricaded himself inside, plugging up every possible opening to the outside that he could find. He didn’t have his phone, and his power had been cut, which meant that he had no way of contacting anyone.

Martin resigned himself to having to bunker down, and took stock of everything in his flat. He probably had enough canned food to last for a little while, and he had a few frozen meals that he could cook on the stove, which was gas not electric. 

On the third day of his imprisonment, he felt the familiar tickle of little legs across his skin, and he carefully raised his arm to look at the spider there. He tried not to think about how it had gotten in, because he didn’t want to think about any places that Prentiss’ worms would be able to slip through. “Ah, as you can see, I’m a bit stuck at the moment. Can’t exactly do my job from in here. So if you could just do something to get rid of Prentiss, I would appreciate that.” He paused before adding, “And by ‘get rid of’, I don’t mean for you to kill her.” The spider didn’t respond, obviously, but it did scurry off, and Martin knew that his message would get to where it needed to. 

He tried to relax after that, relieved that help would be on the way soon, but it was difficult to settle down with all the knocking going on, and a couple more days passed without any sign of anyone who’d come to help. Martin narrowed his eyes. He knew that the spider had to have gotten his message across, and if the Web hadn’t come for him yet, it was intentional. But why? He’d done everything that had been asked of him, hadn’t he?

It felt like years passed before he woke up to blessed silence. He looked through the peephole and saw nothing in the hallway besides a few remaining silver worms, so Martin grabbed an empty mason jar, quickly pulled on some shoes and a jacket, and ventured out of his flat for the first time in ages. He scooped up some worms as evidence, and then rushed to the Institute, not caring about how crazy he had to look to everyone that saw him. 

He barged into Jon’s office, not caring that the man had clearly been in the middle of recording a statement, and dumped the dead worms onto the desk before sinking down into the chair across from Jon. Jon stared at him with wide eyes. “Martin! What-?”

Martin grimaced as he forced himself to shrink down and soften his voice. He hated that he didn’t need to pretend to stutter or shake, though. He cleared his throat, and got ready to share his story.  
,,,

Honestly, the last thing Martin had expected was for Jon to offer him the cot he’d apparently snuck into the archives (which explained how he never seemed to go home at night). And he couldn’t get over just how- how apologetic Jon seemed. He brought Martin tea- made just how Martin liked it without even having to ask- and kept standing around looking somewhat guilty. Against Martin’s better judgement, he found the whole thing to be rather… endearing.

Martin intentionally tried pushing his limits, walking around half naked or like a slob late at night when he knew Jon was the only one there, but other than some mild chiding, there were no consequences. Martin slacked on his work, and didn’t get yelled at for it even once. It seemed that Jon genuinely did just feel bad for what Martin had gone through. 

One night, while Martin worked on a poem that he hoped could properly sum up his feelings about the past few weeks, there was a gentle knock on the door to the room. A quick glance at his watch showed that it was nearing midnight, and Martin knew that there was only one person who’d be here so late. “Come in!”

The door was quietly pushed open, and Jon stepped inside. He just stood there for a moment, framed by the gentle lights shining in from the hallway, long hair hanging loose by his shoulders, glasses hanging from a little chain in front of his chest instead of resting on the bridge of his nose. Martin was suddenly struck by just how attractive Jon looked when he wasn’t scowling and snapping insults. 

He was so shocked by his own thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that Jon was just standing there awkwardly, and Martin cleared his throat. “Did you, uh- did you need something?”

Jon blinked a couple of times, eyes somewhat owlish when not hidden behind his glasses. “Ah, yes, just looking for some- some documents. This is document storage, after all.” But he just continued to stand there, and Martin furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to figure out what it was exactly that Jon was waiting for. “Do you- do you need help looking, then?”

Jon blinked once, and then slowly shook his head. “Ah, no, sorry. I’m just…” he trailed off, and let out a soft sigh. His shoulders slumped down, and even with just the dim lighting of the document storage and the trickles of light from the hallway, Martin could see just how utterly exhausted Jon looked. “I just…”

Martin hesitated for a moment, and then got to his feet to gesture at the cot. “You look like you could really use some rest, and I know that I just kinda took this over from you, and-”

Jon started shaking his head almost as soon as the words started coming out of Martin’s mouth. “No, I- I couldn’t. You need it more than I do-”

“-you looked dead on your feet-”

“-this is all you have at the moment-”

They both stopped and just stared at each other for a long moment, and then Martin tilted his head to the side. “I know it’s- uh- it’s not the biggest cot, but we could probably share? I probably shouldn’t be up this late anyways.”

Jon’s eyes widened, and Martin immediately went back over his words to see where he’d gone wrong, and he could feel his cheeks start to heat up. More importantly, though, he could see Jon’s own face get darker, and Martin decided that he rather liked how Jon looked when he was flustered. Jon cleared his throat for much longer than was necessary, and then he reached up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Just for tonight,” he finally muttered. 

Martin nodded in agreement. Then he sat back down on the cot and shifted around until he was comfortable. It was a good thing that Jon was so scrawny, because Martin was pretty sure that two Martin-sized people would not be able to both fit. It was going to be a tight squeeze as it was. 

When Jon didn’t make any move to come closer, Martin patted the space left on the cot, and waited patiently. Finally, Jon closed the door to the room, leaving them both in just the very faint light that Martin had been using to write under. Then Jon turned around so his back was towards Martin as he pulled off his waist coat, kicked off his shoes, and then slowly pulled his trousers off as well. He folded his clothes (even though they already seemed to be a bit too wrinkled for it to really matter), and after another few seconds, he finally got under the blankets. 

Both of them shifted around to try and figure out the best position, and in the end, Martin was facing towards the wall with Jon facing the other way. Their backs were touching, and Martin found himself wishing that neither of them were wearing shirts before he could stop himself. 

Even without looking, Martin could feel how stiffly Jon was lying there, and he could only hope that Jon would be able to get enough sleep like that. Martin closed his eyes, and fell asleep to the sound of Jon’s even breaths, and it was the safest that Martin had felt in weeks.  
,,,

Martin woke up to an empty bed, and he quickly tried to push down the disappointment that threatened to well up inside of him. Jon’s clothes were gone, and one of the file drawers was slightly ajar, clearly having been closed in a hurry. Martin sighed, and then got up to get dressed. Whatever it was that he was supposed to be watching for, he hoped that it would happen soon so that he could get out of this place before he got in any deeper.  
,,,

There were a few more nights where Jon was so dead on his feet that Martin was able to convince him to get some sleep. Those nights where they slept together were always the ones where Martin got the best sleep.  
,,,

Martin still made tea for Jon everyday, but what was different was that Jon started having a cup of tea ready for Martin in the mornings to help him wake up. And no matter what kind of mood Martin was in, the tea was somehow always made perfectly to suit his tastes in that moment. It warmed him up to think of Jon in the kitchen, worrying about making the perfect cup.  
,,,

They ran through the tunnels to get away from Jane Prentiss, and Martin couldn’t stop fretting about Jon. He was worried about Sasha and Tim and everyone else too, but none of them made his heart flutter at the thought of them being hurt. Hearing Jon’s pained yelps as the worms were removed from his leg had made Martin feel like he was going to vomit, and he had actually been relieved to be judged for his poetry because it meant that Jon was still himself. 

As they hurried along, Martin spotted a spider, and he knew that he needed to follow it. He wasn’t sure where it would lead, but hopefully it would be to safety. Martin sped up, and only paused when the spider vanished, and he realized that he couldn’t hear any footsteps behind him. He whirled around, and didn’t see Jon or Tim anywhere.

Martin’s eyes widened in alarm. Why the hell would the Web want to separate him from Jon? Wasn’t he supposed to be watching over the Archivist? After a moment, Martin decided to ignore the spider that was clearly guiding him somewhere, and instead he turned back and started running through the tunnels, searching for Jon with more desperation than he cared to admit. 

Finding the corpse of Gertrude Robinson barely even phased him, and Martin tried to make a mental note of where she was before he hurried off again. She was already dead and there was nothing that Martin could do for her, but Jon was still alive (hopefully). 

When he heard the ear-piercing screams that seemed to come from a million places at once, Martin knew that Jane Prentiss was dead. When he finally saw Jon, after the poor man was finished with quarantine and was wrapped all over in bandages, some part of Martin wished that he could have been the one to put an end to Prentiss. It was a rather startling thought, since Martin had always made it clear that he had no interest in killing anyone. 

Martin pulled Jon into a hug before he could stop himself, and only pulled away when he heard Jon’s soft pained noise. There really were bandages everywhere, and Martin could feel the worry eating away at him. For whatever reason, the Web had wanted Martin out of the way, presumably so that Jon would get hurt. “Jon, there’s something I have to tell you.” He took a deep breath, and then slowly let it out. “You said that you’ve always believed in the supernatural, right? Well so have I.” And even though he had no permission to do such a thing, Martin sat down and told Jon everything that he knew. When he was finished, he looked down at the table between them. “If you- if you want to fire me now then I won’t blame you.”

There was a long moment of silence that grated on Martin’s nerves, and then finally Jon responded. “So this- this entity told you to spy on me? Did it- did it tell you to make me tea and share a bed with me and-?”

Martin quickly shook his head. “No, god no. That was all just because- because you’re so infuriating. I never have a problem keeping my distance, but you just made it impossible.”

“So that stuff was all you?” Jon asked, and Martin could suddenly hear the insecurity in the Archivist’s voice. 

Martin forced himself to look up and meet Jon’s eyes, and he tried not to wince at the sight of white gauze taped all over Jon’s face. “Yes,” he said firmly. 

There was another moment of silence, and then Jon pushed his chair back, letting it scrape across the floor. This time Martin did wince, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the sound of the door to open as Jon walked away or sent Martin away. 

He didn’t expect a warm weight to suddenly drop down on his lap, and arms to wrap around the back of his neck. He opened his eyes and saw the top of Jon’s head as Jon pressed his face into Martin’s shoulder. “As long as this is real, the rest of it is- is irrelevant,” Jon mumbled.

Martin had no idea what to do, but he finally wrapped his arms around Jon’s waist, and vowed to himself to take care of Jon for as long as he was possibly allowed to do so. Not allowed by the Web, no, but allowed by Jon. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “It’s all real,” he whispered. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” Jon murmured back, and Martin didn’t care why he’d been sent to the Institute in the first place because it didn’t matter. All that mattered now was that he was never going to leave.


End file.
